


all in a twilight, you and I alike

by tigriswolf



Series: fic_promptly [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Episode, Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, Evil Twins But Not Really, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mind Games, Mindfuck, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Mirror Universe Except Not, Non-Chronological, Panic Attacks, Parallel Universes, Underage Character, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 11,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a world where Stiles’ dad caught Scott in the woods that night and Stiles fled in the opposite direction, knowing even as he kept running that it was possibly the stupidest thing he had ever done.</p><p> </p><p>[will never be finished]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: minor violence; mentions of minor character death; AU  
> Pairings: maybe sorta implied Peter/Stiles?  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 1010  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, his/her twin in a parallel universe

There is a world where Stiles’ dad caught Scott in the woods that night and Stiles fled in the opposite direction, knowing even as he kept running that it was possibly the stupidest thing he had ever done. And when he tripped headfirst into a tree and something growled at him, when he scrambled to his knees and turned to see a giant shadow with bared fangs – 

“Huh,” he said. 

The giant shadow, close enough for Stiles to see the dark fur in the scantest light of the moon, close enough to feel the hot breath, to count each gleaming fang, tilted its head like a confused dog. 

Moon. Body torn in half. Giant wolf-shaped shadow. 

Stiles Stilinski may have been a moron, but he was not stupid. 

“Oh, shit,” he said.

The giant shadow ( _werewolf_ , the analytical part of his mind that never shut up announced, and the terrified part of him shouted back, _no shit, Sherlock!_ ) lunged forward, biting down on his shoulder, and angled its body so that when he screamed, all the sound got caught in its neck. 

No one heard, and no one was looking for him, and it _hurt_ , it hurt so bad… 

When the werewolf ( _what else?_ the part of him still aware enough to ask muttered) pulled back, Stiles brought a hand up to his shoulder, watching it lick at the blood on its teeth. It nosed back in, sniffing at his neck, and he closed his eyes, hurting too much to care. But when the werewolf lunged forward again, this time grabbing the back of his neck in its claws, Stiles tried yanking away, and its claws dug into his neck – 

_fire screams familypack children sisterbrother mate mate wife mate children children pups fire_  
 _ **wolfsbane**_  
 _pain_  
 _hate_  
 _fire_  
 _familypack_  
 _familypack_  
 _beta  
 _ **alpha**_ _

Stiles woke up in his bed without a clue how he got there. He had missed calls and unread texts from Scott, and he could hear Dad downstairs, rummaging around in the fridge, humming to himself, hear Dad’s heartbeat – 

But he and Scott were in the woods, looking for the missing half of that girl ( _Laura, familypack, regret, rage_ ) and they were separated, and Dad found Scott, and Stiles hit his head, and there was a giant - ( _alpha_ )

Stiles touched his right shoulder, which didn’t hurt at all. He pulled the t-shirt down to look, and there wasn’t even a mark. 

Dad mumbled, “I want your love, I want your revenge,” which, Stiles never needed to know about Dad’s crush on Lady Gaga, but at least he picked a good song.

And. And.

Stiles shouldn’t be able to hear that. How did he get home? He was… in the woods. With a shadow that had fangs and claws ( _alpha_ ) and… 

No. It was just a dream. He hit his head, stumbled home, went to bed. 

End of story. 

.

Two nights later, while Scott was at a party with his new lady love, Stiles stayed home. Dad was on duty and Stiles huddled under the covers on his bed and he’d never felt so angry. He smelled smoke. 

He heard howling. 

.

Stiles woke up naked in the woods to an equally naked man staring at him. “Hello,” the man said. “I’m Peter. What’s your name?” 

There was a command in those gentle words, and Stiles – 

“I’m Stiles,” he answered. “What – ”

“I need your help, Stiles,” Peter said quietly, reaching out to cup Stiles’ jaw. “I showed you what happened to my family.”

“Fire,” Stiles murmured, not pulling away, not _wanting_ to pull away.

Peter nodded, the hand on Stiles’ jaw shifting until claws pricked at his skin. Stiles swallowed nervously, but he knew, _knew_ , that Peter wouldn’t hurt him unless he deserved it. 

“Will you help me?” Peter asked, his other hand stroking over Stiles’ shoulder, splaying his palm over the no-longer-there bite.

If anything happened to Dad, Stiles would _kill_. 

“Yes,” Stiles said. 

.

(In a world where Scott was bitten, Derek and the pack watch the Stiles-wolf carefully. Stiles himself is intrigued, getting closer than anyone likes, but the Stiles-wolf hasn’t made a single threatening move. 

When Peter slinks into the room, the Stiles-wolf _looks_ at him and snarls, “You’re not my alpha.” 

Stiles glances from Stiles-wolf to Peter and back. “Derek killed him a few months ago,” he explains, meeting his wolf-self’s eyes and not looking away. “Then he resurrected himself, somehow. No one’s bothered explaining it to me.” 

Stiles-wolf nods, still not moving, and nobody else seems capable of doing anything, so Stiles asks, “You said yes?”

“I didn’t get a choice,” Stiles-wolf replies, shrugging. “But after the memory-dump, if I’d been given the choice – yeah, I would’ve.” 

Derek growls and Stiles-wolf looks at him. “Alpha red’s good on you,” he says. “But if you come near me, one of us dies.” 

Stiles slowly moves between them, not for a second thinking it’ll do any good if one of them decides to attack, and Peter says, “In your world – ”

“My alpha tore the Argents apart,” Stiles-wolf says, baring his teeth. “And most of the others responsible. I got Harris, the insurance guy, and one of the arsonists.” 

“And the rest of my nephew’s wolves?” Peter asks, while everyone is just standing there horrified, and Stiles – 

Stiles gets it. A part of Stiles even _wants_ it, has wanted it since the parking garage, and Stiles-wolf’s gaze flicks back to him as he answers, “Isaac, yes. The rest are just kids at my school.” 

“We need to send you back,” Stiles says. 

Stiles-wolf tilts his head, scenting the air. “You’ve got the spark Deaton was talking about,” he says. “Wonder twins activate?” 

Stiles nods. “I just read the book last night.”

Laughing, Stiles-wolf says, “So did I. Wishing real hard at the same time?” 

Scott makes a small inquisitive sound, but Stiles can’t look away from how _still_ Stiles-wolf is, how controlled. He makes all of Derek’s puppies look like newborns. 

“I’ve wondered,” Stiles mutters. 

Stiles-wolf’s eyes flash a bright, chill gold, and he mutters back, “So’ve I.”)


	2. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: mentions of violence and minor character death; AU  
> Pairings: maybe sorta implied pre-Peter/Stiles?  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 170  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, I want people to tell their children terrifying stories about the things we did for love.

Adrian Harris is first, a gift for the boy. Six years ago, he was a drunkard who let a pretty blonde seduce him into murder. Now he is a dried up husk of a man who lives for tormenting his students, and Peter's new beta in particular. 

Really, Harris has done most of the work himself, and the child has only his father's morals holding him back. 

(His father's, not his. Oh, but Peter had chosen so well, high on the rush of being alpha.) 

"We'll be completely bonded as alpha and beta," he tells the boy, watching Harris struggle uselessly. "Nothing will be able to come between us, or turn you from me." 

The boy flicks at glance at him, heart steady, and shifts. 

Peter hasn't managed the full shift yet, not like Talia or Laura, but this boy, _his beta_ \- 

"Please, please, don't do this, you don't have to do this!" Harris blubbers, trying to scramble back. 

Stiles lunges and Peter smiles as blood fills the night air.


	3. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: mentions of minor character death; AU; implied future dub-con and/or seduction at the behest of someone you can’t really say no to  
> Pairings: the Peter/Stiles is no longer implied  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 840  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any/any, someone ends up being turned into a werewolf or other supernatural creature, whereas in canon they were saved.

“My nephew,” Peter says, fingers stroking the back of Stiles’ neck. 

“You want me to kill him?” Stiles asks, eyes closing in bliss. 

“ _No_ ,” Peter says, fingers tightening, claws breaking the skin, shaking the boy like a pup. 

Stiles hisses, whining at his alpha’s displeasure. “I want to avoid killing my last living relative unless there is no other option,” Peter tells him, letting the claws rest against Stiles’ neck for another moment before resuming the stroking. He reels Stiles in, resting his cheek on the top of Stiles’ head. 

“Get close to him,” Peter murmurs, tracing his fingers along Stiles’ spine. He has missed the closeness of pack, these past six years, an eternity trapped inside his head, with only humans for company. His pack, dead and gone. “Be where he is. Let him approach you. He’ll know what you are, but he’ll also know you’re too new to have ever hurt Laura.” 

_Laura_. Oh, Laura. He’d held her when she was minutes old, his sister’s firstborn, his future alpha. He saw her first steps, ran with her during her first shift. He loved her like a daughter; he had no children of his own before the fire. He and Stefan had just begun considering it, had started talking about asking Veronica, his younger sister, to carry a child for them – and then the hunters trapped the pack and burned them all alive. 

“And after I’m close to him?” Stiles asks, curling into him, tilting his head so that his ear is over Peter’s heart. Oh, Peter does so adore this boy. 

“Seduce him,” Peter whispers, even though he knows it’ll hurt to watch. Stiles is nothing like Stefan except for the acidic wit, for the sarcasm neither of them can – could – turn off. 

“What.” Stiles tries to jerk away but Peter’s arms tighten around him. “Peter, alpha – I can’t –”

“You can,” Peter says. “Maybe not sexually, but you’re a baby wolf, beta. Derek had a way with the pups, and he is a born beta. He’ll want to help you.” He chuckles, nuzzling the side of Stiles’ head, nibbling at Stiles’ ear. “Flail around a bit, babble at him. Act like you have no idea what’s going on – but don’t flat-out lie to him, Stiles. Born wolves are walking lie detectors.” 

Stiles growls a little, sounding as dangerous as a newborn pup, and Peter _wants_ … but not yet. Derek would be able to smell it on Stiles, and Stiles is still so young. 

But soon, he tells himself. Stefan is gone. Stefan is gone, and Stiles is Peter’s in a way not even Stefan had been. Stefan was the youngest son of the head beta of a pack over in Arizona; Peter met him at college. Stefan had been fighting with the alpha’s son and refused to go home until he got an apology that would never be coming, so Peter invited him back to Beacon Hills when they graduated. They were friends for years before mating. 

Stiles is Peter’s in every single way and he presses a gentle kiss to Stiles’ lips before pulling away, unwinding his arms from around Stiles. “You’re a good pup,” he says. “You’ll be magnificent as you grow.” 

Stiles preens and quickly darts in, kissing Peter again. Peter lets him, reveling in the feel of him, the excitement, the knowledge that his pack is off to a wonderful start. 

The sheriff turns his car onto the street so Peter pulls away again, standing. “Seduce my nephew, beta,” he says. “I’ll see you in a few days.” 

“Will we be going after someone else soon?” Stiles asks quickly, following him to the stairs, bouncing in place. 

“Yes,” Peter says, deciding his boy is so good, he deserves a reward. “Your chemistry teacher, in fact.” He pats Stiles’ cheek, caresses his jaw. “This weekend. Make contact with Derek and I might even let you have the fool.” 

Stiles’ eyes widen and his mouth drops open. Peter can barely tear his gaze away, but the sheriff is now only a few houses away and while Peter may one day have to deal with the man, it’s not time yet. 

“Goodbye, Stiles,” Peter says and hurries down the stairs, out the back door. 

Derek can’t know that Peter is awake until he’s so wrapped up in Stiles he can’t pull away. Derek’s had six years to grow, to mature, to strengthen himself – Peter has an alpha’s power now, but he’s also spent six years trapped in a dying shell. He took Laura by surprise and he doesn’t have that advantage with Derek, who _knows_ that there is something in town capable of taking an alpha in the prime of her life. 

At the moment, Derek thinks it’s hunters, but soon enough, when the body count continues to rise, Derek will figure out otherwise. 

And if he’s invested in Stiles… 

Peter slips back into the hospital, brings back the burns to the surface, and pretends to be a catatonic shell. 

_Soon_ , he tells himself. _So very soon_.


	4. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: mentions of minor character death; AU  
> Pairings: none  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 110  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Author’s choice, author’s choice, 
> 
>  
> 
> _99 bullet-riddled bodies on the wall_  
>  99 bullet-riddled bodies  
> 98 bullet-riddled bodies on the wall  
> 98 bullet-riddled bodies...

Adrian Harris is the first person Stiles ever kills. He knows he should regret it, knows his father would be horrified, that his mother would be disgusted, that Scott would never look at him the same – 

But Scott is dating a daughter of hunters, and Harris has never, not even _once_ , given Stiles a reason to hesitate. 

Harris helped kill Stiles’ alpha’s pack. He let a pretty little blonde trick him into revealing the best way to kill a houseful of people. Peter has explained everything he’s pieced together, that he got from Laura before she died. 

Adrian Harris the first. He’s not the last. Not by a long shot.


	5. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: mentions of major character death; AU; morality being flushed down the toilet; underage sexual shenanigans; an idiot boy being taken advantage of by a homicidal maniac and not quite realizing where the line is or even how to draw it, and then deciding there is no line after all  
> Pairings: Peter/Stiles, Scott/Allison  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 705  
> Point of view: third

A part of Stiles feels guilty. Dad’s having to work a lot of overtime because bodies are piling up. Stiles has to make nice with Scott’s girl even though he knows that this whole thing will end with her dying a bloody death because of her family. He’s making friends with a guy just so that the guy doesn’t have to be messily murdered. 

But Peter needs him to do this. Alpha needs him.

(Three months ago, he didn’t even know Peter Hale. Three months ago, he was tromping around in the woods at night looking for a body. 

Three months ago, he was deaf and blind and couldn’t smell a thing. Three months ago, he was _weak_. 

But he’s strong, now. He’s _something_ now, even if only he and Peter (and Derek) know it.)

Scott’s on a date tonight. With an Argent. Stiles didn’t even have to ask for Scott; Peter just worked around him, whispering his plans into Stiles’ ear with his fingers dancing around on Stiles’ back, pressing him further and further into the bed – but backing away, always backing away, whenever he edged up to Stiles’ limit.

“She’s here,” Peter said, breath hot on Stiles’ neck, “and we’re going to kill the girl so that she calls in the head of the family.” 

“Too many feminine pronouns there.” Stiles shuddered in pleasure, eyes closing as his fingers shifted, claws digging into his bedspread. 

Peter laughed softly, pulling back just enough for Stiles to breathe again. “Kate Argent,” he said crisply, hate in every syllable. “She’s back in Beacon Hills. You and I are going to kill her niece so that she’ll call in reinforcements.” He leaned down to nip at the base of Stiles’ neck. 

“Reinforcements?” Stiles repeated, yelping when Peter bit down hard enough to draw blood. 

“Their alpha,” Peter murmured into his skin, kissing the bite until it healed, and then biting again in the exact same spot. 

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, and Peter chuckled, “Not yet.” He pulled away, sitting up, and Stiles followed, turning to face him. 

“The Argents are ruled by the wives, mothers, grandmothers – the oldest woman in the family is the leader.” Peter waited for Stiles’ nod to continue, “Chris and Kate Argent’s mother died a few years ago, I don’t know from what. She had no sisters and no female cousins, and her husband didn’t want to give up power.” 

“So…” Stiles said, “Kate should be the head of the family and she’s not?” 

Peter nodded. “I don’t doubt that she would’ve killed us without hesitating, but she needed someone to point her our way. And we’re going to kill them all, beta. Not the entire hunting clan, unfortunately, but everyone in the immediate family will die. Including your friend’s little lady love.” 

And Stiles had said, “Okay, alpha,” even though he _knew_ \- 

And Scott’s on a date tonight. With Allison, who is so sweet. Who tells Stiles he’s always welcome, who laughs at his babble (which has been fake, so fake, for three months, and no one has noticed), who asks him how his day is going, who always smiles. 

She makes Scott so happy. 

But she’s Kate’s niece. She’s Gerard’s granddaughter. Her family burned Alpha’s family alive, and Stiles has a choice right now.

Right now. 

Because Allison isn’t that guy in the rental store, or the bus driver, or those fools in the woods. Allison isn’t Harris. Allison, in and of herself, hasn’t done a single thing to deserve what Peter’s going to do to her. 

Peter’s waiting for Stiles. Allison is going to drop Scott off because his mom needed the car, and she’s going to drive home, and she’s never going to get there, and if Stiles calls Derek – 

Peter’s howl thrums in Stiles’ bones and he drops the phone on the bed, jumps out the window, and runs to his alpha. 

(A part of him feels guilty, when he lets Scott sob all over him about Allison. When Dad rants about wild animals and how someone has to be responsible, someone has to be turning the thing loose. 

And Peter crawls into his bed, spreads out over his back, and whispers, “She called him.”

None of Stiles feels guilty after that.)


	6. Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: character death, grief/mourning, panic attack/asthma attack (written by someone who has neither)  
> Pairings: Scott/Allison  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 500  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: any, any, "It's okay." "No it's not!"

"Scott," Stiles says, sounding hesitant. Scott looks at his phone, confused, because Stiles hasn't sounded hesitant since the last time he broke one of Scott's transformers and that was, like, a decade ago. 

"Stiles?" he asks. "What's wrong?" 

He can hear Stiles take a deep breath. "I'm coming over there," he says. "My dad... I'm not supposed to know yet, but he - I'm coming over there." 

Mom's at work, some conference that ran long. It's why she needed the car, why Allison had picked Scott up and dropped him off instead of the other way around. If Mom didn't have the car, it would've been Scott's turn. He could ride his bike to Stiles, but his breath is still shallow from Allison teaching him to use her bow. 

"Stiles, what's wrong?" he asks again, but Stiles has already hung up. 

So Scott has to wait.

.

Five minutes later, Stiles pulls into the driveway, which means he was already driving when he called. Scott waits on the porch, giving Stiles time to calm down, or whatever. It’s been a long time since Stiles had a panic attack, but Scott can clearly remember the last one. It was… horrifying. If Mom hadn’t been home – 

But Mom was home. She’s not this time. 

Stiles gets out of the jeep and slowly walks over to the porch, up the stairs. He doesn’t meet Scott’s eyes. 

“I overheard my dad,” he says quietly. “On accident, this time. I’d just gotten home.” He looks at Scott for just a second before back down at the porch, and, yeah, Scott has noticed. Hell, everyone has noticed the sheriff’s son hanging out with an older guy, but Scott’s been waiting for Stiles to come to him the way he goes to Stiles about Allison. “He didn’t hear me come in,” Stiles continues, and now he’s wringing his hands. 

What the hell could be so awful? This is almost like when Stiles’ mother died, when Dad left – 

“Stiles,” Scott bursts in, because now it’s occurred to him, “my mom, is she – ”

“It’s not your mom,” Stiles says, voice barely there. “But something… Allison crashed into a tree, Scott, and something got her.” 

He says more, but Scott can’t hear him. His breath is roaring in his ears, and he can’t catch it, and – 

.

When he comes to, his mom is holding him and Stiles is beside them on the couch. “Oh, my baby, sweetie, lovie,” Mom is crooning, one hand stroking the back of his head. His face is buried in her shoulder and he still can’t quite catch his breath. 

He can’t – 

Not Allison – 

He turns his head to look at Stiles. “Does your dad know?” he croaks out.

“Not yet,” Stiles says. “But it’ll – you’ll be okay, Scott. I swear you will.” His voice breaks, and Scott knows he’s thinking about his mom, how it’s been years and nothing’s okay yet. 

Scott doesn’t say anything, just turns back to his mother and lets himself cry.


	7. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: blood, death, gore, AU, major character death, and a dumb kid rationalizing away everything  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount:510  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Any, any, what you need is a good, old fashioned _____

Stiles wakes up to a howl thrumming in his bones. Dad’s asleep down the hall, home from a eighteen hour shift, and Stiles silently dresses before slipping out the window. 

Peter is waiting at the edge of the preserve, smiling. “I have a gift for you,” he says, gently squeezing the back of Stiles’ neck. 

“Another?” Stiles says, pressing up into the touch. “The insurance bastard was just a week ago.” 

“I’ve been tracking them for over a month,” Peter tells him, tugging him into the preserve. “I remember them, their stench. They poured the gasoline.” 

( _screams wolfsbane **fire**_ )

Stiles snarls; Peter rumbles in reply and then they both go silent. 

.

There are two drunk guys dancing around a fire. Their stench is in Stiles’ nightmares from Peter’s memories. When Stiles shifts, it’s not even consciously. 

“Take your pick,” Alpha murmurs, stepping back.

The taller one laughs, throwing back another bottle of beer. His stench is stronger; he got closer to the house, that horrible night, so Stiles will leave him for Alpha. The smaller one bends down to grab a bottle and Stiles pounces.

Both of the men shout, but Stiles can’t hear them over the memory of fire roaring, of _familypack_ screaming, and he doesn’t hesitate. The little guy’s blood is warm in his mouth, and bone splinters, tiny pricks that barely register on his gums, his tongue, down his throat. 

The other one is screaming, begging, pleading, scrambling back on the dirt, eyes on Alpha. Alpha stalks forward, halfway into the shift, as far as Stiles has seen him go. Stiles licks his lips, watching avidly, and Alpha growls, “Watch and learn, beta. This is how we’re going to kill the Argents.” 

With three kills in him, Stiles has been quick and messy. He watched Alpha tear the video guy apart, and it was nothing like this – 

This is slow, calculating, and agonizing. The bastard can’t even whimper by the time Alpha is done. 

Sunrise is an hour away when Alpha shifts back to Peter and gestures Stiles forward. “We’re taking them to the house,” Peter says. “We’ll burn them where we were burned.” 

“Makes sense,” Stiles says, shrugging.

.

Dad gets up while Stiles is cooking breakfast. Dad’s still a bit sluggish but Stiles is wired. He took a scalding shower, scrubbed every inch of his skin, and burned his clothes miles away from where the scum was left smoldering in the ruins of the Hale house. 

Dad knows something is up; of course he does. But Stiles starts rambling at him, and Dad chuckles, and there is simply no way Dad could ever guess the truth.

(Stiles doesn’t want him to guess the truth.)

.

(“You know what to do,” Alpha rumbles, eyes red as the blood he wants Stiles to spill.

Allison is whimpering as she regains consciousness.

“Do as I showed you,” Alpha croons, claws quivering as he restrains himself.

“Wha-what?” Allison mumbles, eyes blinking open for a second before closing again. 

“Go wild, beta,” Alpha orders.

Alpha needs this. Alpha wants this. 

( _familypack  
 **alpha**_ )

Stiles snarls, “Argent.”)


	8. Derek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: grief; guilt/regret; rage; mentions of death/murder/violence  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 900  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Placebo’s ‘English Summer Rain’

The first place Derek went after coming back to Beacon Hills was the old house. He could barely stand to look at it, and Laura’s scent was long gone, if she’d left it at all. She might come to pay her respects, but she surely wouldn’t have hung around the burnt-out shell for long. Not like Derek, who still had so much penance… 

He found Laura in the woods, face frozen in a horrified expression. He collapsed beside her and howled and howled before picking her up and taking her home, where he buried her with all the honor due his alpha – 

Alpha. Why wasn’t Derek the alpha now? Did a werewolf kill her? Or was it Kate Argent, to wipe out the last of the Hales? 

It was Kate Argent. Using some magic to steal the alpha power, to keep it from Derek. Nothing else made sense. 

.

Derek stayed at the house. Sleeping (or, rather, lying on the floor and not sleeping) was only the least of his penance. When he dreamed, it was always of fire and screamshowls and being alone forever, becoming an omega. 

It was nothing less than he deserved, and he deserved so much more. 

.

He caught the scent while loping through the preserve: hunters. Argent hunters. 

And then - _wolf_. 

There was another werewolf in Beacon Hills, and there were Argents on his family’s land. Again. 

Derek snarled, inhaled deeply to memorize the scent, and started tracking. 

.

 

He first saw the boy at the diner closest to his old house, picking up a to-go order. He only got a whiff, but the boy met his eyes as he went out the door, and Derek _knew_ that scent. 

A quick search revealed that the kid was the Sheriff’s son, a troublemaker, and well liked around town.

Derek stalked him for a few days, close enough for the kid to barely sense him; he kept jerking his around, looking for Derek, and Derek melted out of sight. There was no way the kid, Stilinski, could’ve killed Laura, but he was new enough to be bitten by whoever did. 

Intentionally? Or the blind lashing out of someone high on being alpha? 

But – hunters killed Laura. So who the fuck turned the kid?

.

On the fifth day, at the same diner, Derek was a hair too slow and the kid’s eyes met his, and the kid’s turned the golden of a bitten beta. Derek let his flash the born blue and the kid’s doubletake was so massive he fell down. Derek slowly approached, not wanting to panic a baby beta in public, and the kid scrambled to his feet. 

“Stiles!” one of the waitresses announced, running over to help the kid with his to-go order, now spilled all over the floor. “Are you alright, hon?” 

“Yeah, Beverly, thanks,” he said, flushing a splotchy red. “Just – thought I saw. You know. A moose.” 

“A moose,” Beverly repeated flatly, glancing from Stiles’ ducked head to Derek. 

Derek shrugged and Beverly rolled her eyes. “Sit back down, Stiles,” she ordered. “I’ll have Hal cook you up some more dinner for you and Sheriff, you hear?” 

“Thanks, Beverly,” he mumbled. 

Beverly carried the to-go boxes over to the counter of the bar while Stiles, avoiding Derek’s gaze, settled at the nearest empty table. Derek sat across from him, aware of all the eyes watching them, and asked, “You alright? That looked like a pretty nasty fall.” 

“I’m good,” Stiles muttered at the table. His heart was beating too fast, he was nervous as hell, and this was not the place for their first talk. 

“You know what you are?” Derek asked under his breath. A human couldn’t hear it, but to a werewolf it was like shouting. 

Stiles nodded without looking up. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Derek said at a normal volume. “Be more careful from now on, okay?” He stood and walked back to the hostess station.

While he waited to be directed to the take-out area, he murmured, “Meet me at the old Hale house tonight at ten. If you’re not there, I’ll hunt you down. Understand?”

Stiles darted a quick look at him and mumbled, “Fine.” 

When Stiles’ replacement food was delivered and he carefully walked out, Derek watched him. Beverly caught his gaze, with a raised eyebrow, and Derek looked away. 

“He’s a good kid,” Beverly said, when she deposited his chicken-fried steak with extra mashed potatoes. “Don’t you be getting him in trouble, now.” 

“No trouble, ma’am,” he said, giving her the smile Mom used to call his _butter-wouldn’t-melt_ smile. 

Beverly scoffed, “Whatever you say, hon,” and walked away. 

Derek didn’t look at anyone as he left. 

.

While he waited for Stiles to show up, Derek paced. Nothing made sense. Hunters killed Laura and used magic to keep her only beta from inheriting alpha. But Stiles was a baby werewolf, brand-new, which meant an alpha turned him. Laura before she died? Was that why the hunters killed her?

Or there was an alpha werewolf somewhere in Beacon Hills. Unless he (she?) killed Laura, turned Stiles, and moved on? That made more sense than hunters, but also meant that Derek might never avenge Laura.

He heard Stiles’ heartbeat before he caught the boy’s scent. Whatever had happened, Stiles was his responsibility now. 

Derek took a deep breath and tried to think of what to say.


	9. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: mentions of death/murder/violence  
> Pairings: Peter/Stiles  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 335  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Placebo’s ‘This Picture’

Peter’s little beta is growing up. He’s taller than Peter now, growing into his paws, developing his howl, growl, and snarl. He’s bloodthirsty and ruthless, and when Peter finally stamps out that minor bit of conscience… 

Peter has been alpha for five months. Stiles has been a werewolf for five months. Derek has been back in Beacon Hills for five months. 

Five of the monsters responsible for the death of Peter’s pack have been punished; a child of hunters has been executed for the crime of her blood. 

Derek has been circling around Stiles, ‘teaching’ him to be a werewolf. Stiles has never taken so many showers in his life, Peter knows. Can’t let Derek catch the scent of the alpha. Not yet. Not until he’s completely devoted to the baby werewolf who couldn’t possibly have anything to do with Laura’s death. 

(Peter still regrets that his madness cost him another family member. He will regret that until he dies.)

“Are we gonna… I mean…” Stiles says, biting his lip. Peter glances at him, raising an eyebrow, and Stiles says, “Are we the only members of the pack?” 

“Yes,” Peter says, “until my vengeance is satisfied.” Stiles nods; he’s clever enough to follow Peter’s brilliance most days. 

With Peter and Stiles acting alone, Peter can keep everything under control. But if the pack grows before the Argents are burnt to ashes… so many variables to keep track of, so many things that might go wrong. But Stiles is like an extension of Peter; he understands the necessity of what they do, understands Peter’s plan, Peter’s goals. 

Stiles is the perfect beta and Peter knows that the boy is a once-in-a-lifetime find. The second beta he takes (or Derek, if things keep on as they have) will not be the same. 

“Until the old man chokes on his own blood,” Peter says, “we are a pack of two, beta.”

“Good,” Stiles replies fiercely. “We don’t need anyone else, alpha.” 

Peter smiles at him, thoroughly satisfied.


	10. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: mentions of death/murder/violence  
> Pairings: Peter/Stiles; mentions of Peter/OMC  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 260  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Placebo's 'Sleeping With Ghosts'

"Do werewolves have, like, a soulmate bond or something?" Stiles slurs out, trying to hold still. 

"No, silly boy," Peter laughs, biting down gently on the back of Stiles’ neck. "That's just a fairy story," Peter breathes into Stiles' skin, biting down again with just a hint of fang. 

The only bond between werewolves connects alphas to betas, and it only exists in the very back of the mind, beyond conscious control. Peter loved Stefan but the only bond between them was the equivalent of marriage, blessed by Peter’s alpha (and Stefan’s, when he mated with Peter).

“Why?” Peter asks, flipping the boy and grazing his teeth along Stiles’ adam’s apple. 

“No, no reason,” Stiles gasps, bucking up and throwing his head farther back, baring his throat. “I just – ” He keens as Peter bites down again, all words lost in the sound. 

Peter laughs, soothing the bite with gentle licks. 

“Some werewolves believe in a mating bond,” Peter tells him, stretching out and stroking a hand along Stiles’ side, calming him down. Stiles’ heartbeat is still excited, but he focuses on Peter’s hand and words, breathing slowly and deeply. “I did, as a child, until my father explained about alpha and beta bonds.” He sighs, letting Stiles scoot in closer. “Because I made you, you and I will always be connected.” 

_And one day,_ he doesn’t add, _you and I will be mates_. Stiles is still too young for that, and nowhere is yet safe while any Argent lives. 

But most of the Argents won’t be breathing for much longer.


	11. Peter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: mentions of death/murder/violence; remembered child sexual abuse  
> Pairings: Peter/Stiles, Kate/Derek  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 635  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Placebo's ‘The Bitter End’

Derek has learnt some new tricks, in the years since the fire. That’s the only reason Peter can think of, for Derek to sneak up on him and Stiles in Stiles’ room. Peter should have sensed him coming, heard him or smelled him, but the first he’s aware of the boy, Derek is roaring and lunging for him. 

Which, yes, that’s understandable since Peter was spread out over Stiles and biting down on his shoulder, exactly where he’d turned him. 

No human could have snuck up, no matter how distracted Peter was. But Derek is family so Peter’s instincts aren’t at 100% when it comes to him. 

Stiles is growling, and Derek snarling, and Peter grabs Derek and slams him into the floor. Stiles knows better than to get involved; in fact, clever boy, he throws himself out of range, watching from the doorway to his room as Peter keeps slamming Derek back down every time he tries to move. Finally, with a sub-vocal whine, Derek stops fighting. He exhales heavily and lets his head tilt back, baring his throat. 

Peter smiles at the submission. “Confession is good for the soul, dear nephew,” he says, claws scrapping up against Derek’s throat. “Every time you’ve come to see me, you smelled like guilt. Tell me why.” 

“Because the fire was my fault,” Derek chokes out, sounding so young and so broken. “I thought she loved me and I told her everything. And she burned – she burned my pack alive.” 

“Our pack,” Peter murmurs, loosening his grip. He stares down at Derek, at the pup he once cradled in his arms. He was the only one who could soothe Derek to sleep, when Derek was four months old. If anyone else tried, Derek howled. For Peter, he slipped right into dreams. 

“I didn’t know what I was smelling, those weeks before the fire,” Peter says, sitting back on his haunches to let Derek breathe. Derek stares at him, wide-eyed. Stiles shifts in place in the doorway, but Peter keeps his gaze on Derek. “I didn’t know the stench of Argent; I didn’t smell it clinging to you.” Derek flinches, dropping his gaze. “You were a child, Derek. Fourteen years old and stupid.” 

Younger than Stiles is, now. Younger than Peter can remember being. 

“Very, _very_ stupid,” Peter continues, “but those of us older than you should have scented it. In hindsight, she was not as clever as she thought.” He leans back in to set one claw to Derek’s jugular. Derek doesn’t move, doesn’t beg. 

He just closes his eyes and it breaks Peter’s heart.

“You are not blameless, nephew,” Peter murmurs, gently dragging his claw along Derek’s throat, barely marring the skin. “But it is not possible for me to punish you worse than you have yourself, these six long years. You have held yourself more accountable than I ever could.” 

Derek breathes out, opening his eyes. 

“I am your alpha,” Peter says. 

Derek nods. “Yes, Uncle Peter,” he says softly, and a part of Peter wishes he were still that pup, clinging to Peter’s fingers. It sounds like a sob is caught in Derek’s throat as he says, “You’re my alpha.” 

Stiles whimpers, barely audible, and they both look over at him. “You are still first beta, Stiles,” Peter assures him. “But your lessons with Derek will continue.” 

Derek’s loyalty to Peter is tenuous; the fact that they are blood kin carries heavy weight, but Peter killed Derek’s true alpha, a born alpha, something neither of them is. But Derek already cares for Stiles, and if he can get past this betrayal… 

Yes. Derek must spend as much time with Stiles as possible, until they all execute the Argents together. Then, Peter can start to build the Hale pack up, back to what it used to be.


	12. Kate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning   
> Warnings: mentions of death/murder/violence; grief  
> Pairings: Chris/Victoria Argent  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 250  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Placebo’s ‘Something Rotten’

Kate sits in Allison’s room, fists clenched. Chris is destroying his office; Victoria is in the basement inventorying guns. 

Dad’s on the way, Dad and an army of hunters. 

There’s something in Beacon Hills. Whatever it is killed Laura Hale. All of Kate’s allies from the fire are missing, though only Kate presumes them dead. Without evidence, the cops don’t think men are killed when they wander away, and whatever is lurking has left no evidence. 

Except for a footprint on the front step, the morning Allison’s body was found. 

A wolf’s footprint, on the front step of the Argent house. 

Kate holds a hand to mouth to stifle her sob. 

Derek Hale is back in Beacon Hills, but Kate hasn’t been able to catch him. Peter Hale is a vegetable at a long-term care clinic and any move made on him will catch attention.

Dad’s on the way, ready for war, and Kate knows that she should have made sure all of the Hales died in the fire. Should have hunted down the two who got away. Should have executed Peter in the woods instead of letting the firemen find him.   
Should have. And now Allison is dead, and Kate’s the only one left with ash on her hands.

(Dad.)

Chris is shouting. Victoria hasn’t made a sound. 

It’s Kate’s fault that Allison died, torn apart by a monster. 

It’s Kate’s fault, but she’s going to kill every werewolf in the world until she’s satisfied or she dies.


	13. Sheriff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning   
> Warnings: father&son tension  
> Pairings: talk of Derek/Stiles  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 480  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Placebo’s ‘Plasticine’

Alex doesn’t recognize his son anymore. In the past few months, Stiles has become quiet, withdrawn, and like a Stepford boy. He doesn’t get in trouble, he barely hangs out with Scott, and he quit the lacrosse team, which threw up all sorts of red flags in Alex’s mind because Stiles had only joined it because his mother loved the sport so much.

And he hasn’t mentioned Lydia Martin once in four months.

Something’s wrong, but every time Alex brings it up, Stiles babbles his way out of the conversation. 

.

And then Sarah, Alex’s oldest friends on the force, shuffles into Alex’s office and says, “I saw Stiles and Derek Hale at the movie theater.” 

Well. That would be why he doesn’t talk about Lydia Martin anymore. 

Fuck.

.

On the way home, Alex thinks about every way this thing with Derek Hale could go wrong. He’s only met Hale twice; the first time, after the fire. The second, when he had to tell Hale that half of his sister had been found in the woods. 

Hale had been quiet with simmering rage, but Alex figured that was completely understandable. He said he had no plans to stay, but he also hasn’t left yet, months later. 

He hasn’t left, and he’s going to the movies with Stiles.

.

By the time he pulls into the driveway, Alex is fuming. And while the jeep is parked in Stiles’ usual spot, the house is dark. 

It’s ten o’clock on a school night and Stiles isn’t home. 

Alex slams the door behind him and storms up the stairs, just to be sure. Stiles isn’t in his room or the bathroom. When Alex calls him, his phone goes straight to voicemail. 

.

Alex is sitting in Stiles’ room when the kid tumbles through the window. 

“Dad,” he says, freezing. “Shit. How did I not – ”

“Are you dating Derek Hale?” is not what Alex meant to ask, but it’s what comes out of his mouth. 

Stiles blinks. “Uh, no?” he says. 

“Son,” Alex says, leaning forward in the chair. “Please just tell me what’s been going on with you lately. Please, Allandros.” 

Stiles winces at the name; Alex hasn’t used it since they walked out of the cemetery after laying Ellandra to rest. 

Biting his lip, Stiles drops his gaze. “Just trust me, Dad,” he murmurs. “Please just trust me. I’m not in trou – I’m not over my head. Everything’s under control.” 

Alex wants to believe him. But while Stiles can lie like a pro through omission, he can’t lie for shit when he actually says an untruth. 

“Allandros,” he says again, tired and heartsore, “you’re grounded until you can tell me the truth.” 

Stiles stays silent while Alex stands and walks out. In the morning, he’s silent at breakfast. 

When Alex gets home that night, Stiles isn’t there and Alex knows they’re in real trouble.


	14. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning   
> Warnings: talk of violence/murder/gore; discussion of unrepentant cold-blooded and calculated murder  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 750  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: Placebo’s ‘Special Needs’

“Can you tell me what happened?” Stiles asks Stiles-wolf. They’re sitting side-by-side on the front steps of the Hale house. The rest of the pack have hesitated getting close, and Derek especially keeps an eagle eye on Stiles-wolf, but Stiles knows that if this other him wanted to kill him – well, maybe Derek would be fast enough. Maybe. 

“You won’t like knowing,” Stiles-wolf says. “And you’ll never be able to un-know.” 

Stiles nods. He glances from Allison to Scott to Peter and then back to Stiles-wolf. The rest of the pack is close enough to hear (except the humans) and the curiosity must be eating them all alive, because Stiles-wolf is _clearly_ the baddest of badasses, and he is so obviously _dangerous_ … 

“Did you go looking for the body in the woods?” Stiles-wolf asks. Stiles nods. Stiles-wolf directs a toothy smirk to Scott and says, “Peter found me that night. After he bit me, he transferred memories of the fire.” Stiles-wolf shrugs. “Any doubts I had… my alpha had the right to his vengeance, and I took extreme pleasure in helping him execute everyone guilty.”

“The bus driver and Harris?” Stiles asks. 

Stiles-wolf nods. “And the smaller guy in the woods.” His gaze, beta-yellow, flicks to Allison. 

And that – Stiles is sick to his stomach. “You killed Allison?” he mutters under his breath, and every wolf jerks, heads swiveling around in shock. 

Stiles… has thought about it. After everything with the alpha pack, when Boyd and Erica came back, when Stiles learned just how and why they had wound up in the Argent basement. Allison in the throes of evil grandpa-induce madness was a horrific threat, and part of Stiles still hadn’t forgiven her for everything Gerard had done. And Stiles is the most pragmatic member of the pack. 

“Yes,” Stiles-wolf answers at normal volume. “We had to get Gerard’s attention somehow.” 

Stiles cannot think of a single response but Peter saunters in close and asks, “They paid? All of them?”   
After a long moment of just looking at Peter with his head tilted (but so very obviously not submission), Stiles-wolf says, “Yes.” Another long moment passes before he adds, “You got Gerard and Victoria. I got Chris. Derek got Kate.” 

Every wolf in the pack hears it and Stiles just can’t help wondering how much better things might have been, if Peter had bitten him in the woods that night instead of Scott. From the way Peter is staring at Stiles-wolf, clear want in his eyes, he’s not the only one. 

“You… you killed Allison?” Scott asks, sounding wounded and horrified, and Allison – Allison looks gutted. 

Stiles-wolf takes a deep breath and slowly moves toward Scott, hands held out as to show he isn’t a threat. “My Scott doesn’t know,” Stiles-wolf says. “He’s never gonna know. And I don’t regret it, Allison,” he adds, with a quick glance to her. “Killing you got us Gerard, and I will never feel bad for anything that led to Alpha ripping that bastard into a thousand bloody chunks.” He pauses but no one says anything so he continues, “I’m sorry you had to be such a nice person; I’m sorry your death was painful and lingering; I’m sorry you were that monster’s niece, and that other monster’s granddaughter. But I’m not sorry you died.” 

He looks back at Scott; Stiles feels nauseated, but he can’t regret that he asked, that he knows.

“You loved her, Scott,” Stiles-wolf says. “But you’ll get past it. You’ll move on. You’ll find someone whose blood doesn’t settle an unpayable debt, and you will never know why Allison died or who killed her.”

Allison is crying and Scott looks destroyed, but Stiles – when Stiles-wolf turns around to walk back to slump next to Stiles on the stairs, Stiles murmurs, “I get it.” 

“Sorry you asked?” Stiles-wolf asks just as softly. 

Stiles shakes his head. 

.

After Stiles-wolf is sent back to his home universe, Peter slinks in too close to Stiles and says, “You are magnificent as a wolf.” 

And Stiles, for just a moment, _wants_. To have said yes. To have the power. To have the unflinching conviction in the rightness of his cause. 

But then he looks back at the pack, staring at him with wide, wondering eyes. He looks at Scott and Allison, huddled together, Allison carefully keeping her back from him. 

At Derek, whose hands are clenched with longing on his face.

He will never tell any of them that he still wants what Stiles-wolf has.


	15. Derek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike   
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: underage sex, talk of murder  
> Rating: PG  
> Pairings: Peter/Stiles, mentions of Kate/Derek, implied onesided Derek/Stiles  
> Wordcount: 495  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Placebo’s ‘I’ll Be Yours’

Every time Stiles says anything sarcastic, Derek bites back a laugh. He wants to laugh, at Stiles and with Stiles, but he can’t get sidetracked by being the kid’s friend, not with Argents in town. He’s not an alpha, and the kid doesn’t treat him like one, but Derek is older, stronger, and way more experienced (at everything). 

Stiles listens, but he doesn’t do it unquestioningly. He questions _everything_ , all day, every day. He doesn’t obey orders, demands reasons for things Derek has never had to explain because he’s never spent time with bitten wolves (except Aunt Marcie and Laura’s boyfriend in New York), and constantly interrupts training to rant about school or his friend Scott’s abandonment for a girl ( _Argent_ , who was killed by a wild animal just days ago) or the hours his dad is spending at work that used to be their weekly movie time. 

The kid always has words. 

That’s why his silence after Derek tries to fight Peter (Peter, Peter, _Uncle Peter_ ) keeps Derek down on the ground even after Peter accepts him as beta. The way Stiles looks at him for bare moments before looking back to Peter – 

Stiles has been faking it this whole time. Derek thought – Derek wanted – it doesn’t matter. It was all a lie. 

“Please get us some water, beta,” Peter murmurs, eyes on Derek. 

Derek tracks Stiles’ progress through the house, but he focuses completely on Peter when Peter says, “I’m trusting you with him, Derek. He is quite special to me, but I cannot spend as much time with him as I need to, not yet.” 

Derek swallows heavily, nods, tries not to _choke_ on his confusion, his fear, his rage. 

Peter is an alpha. Peter is completely healed. Peter is insane. Peter is all he has left. 

(Laura. Peter killed Laura. Peter turned Stiles, the brilliant boy Derek has managed to become completely obsessed with in the past few weeks. Peter forgives him. 

Peter killed Laura – but he’s letting Derek live.) 

Stiles silently pads back into the room, two glasses of water in his grip. He hands them off silently; Derek fiercely misses his voice. Wants to say something just for the reaction. 

(Stiles, whining under Peter, whimpering and moaning, _alpha, alpha, yes, please, **alpha**_.)

Peter’s watching him, as Derek watches Stiles. Stiles doesn’t look at either of them. 

Was it all a trick, every last minute of the past eight weeks? When he wasn’t with Derek, Stiles was with Peter – all those dead men. The Argent girl. 

“I have a gift for you, nephew,” Peter says, settling on the bed. Stiles slinks up to him and curls up beside him, head tilted to keep his neck bared to Peter. 

Derek’s gaze flicks to Stiles but Peter just laughs. 

“Kate Argent,” Peter says. 

Derek’s entire body freezes. 

Peter is smiling, fingers stroking down Stiles’ spine, and Derek – Derek sits up, climbs slowly to his feet, stands before his alpha, and waits.


	16. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike   
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning  
> Warnings: killers killing and not being at all sorry; mentions of violence/blood/gore; mentions of dub-con and future dub-con; grief; characters mindfucking each other left, right, and center  
> Rating: PG  
> Pairings: Peter/Stiles, mentions of Kate/Derek, (mostly) onesided Derek/Stiles  
> Wordcount: 2050  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Placebo’s ‘Second Sight’

They start with Chris Argent, out combing the woods in a bout of grief- and rage-filled insomnia. 

Stupid. So stupid. Maybe he’d have been a threat a month ago, but he’s been spiraling since Allison died. Scott has spent hours at the Argent house, grieving in Allison’s room, the only person who was able to go in; Stiles goes with him, sometimes. Offers his condolences to the family. Even talked to Allison’s amazing Aunt Kate, who Allison had so adored, about ancient practices of grief. He researched it on the internet so he could help Scott. 

Amazing Aunt Kate. Most of his mind was on the conversation. The rest was painting her in blood, and wondering what Derek would do. Was capable of doing. 

Stiles hopes it burns. 

But Chris Argent, Allison’s overprotective and terrifying father, he’s in Alpha’s woods. Hale woods. Alpha’s in his mutated alpha form (Derek had explained about halfshift vs fullshift, but he couldn’t give a reasonable explanation for Alpha’s form being so different from Laura’s) and Derek’s wearing his wolf, too, but Stiles hasn’t shifted yet. 

“Do you want him?” Alpha rumbles and Stiles looks away from the human stumbling against a tree. 

“If you’ll let me have him,” Stiles replies, fingers itching to grow claws, fangs itching to come out. He wants to howl so loud it knocks the hunter down, but he holds it in.

The moon is waning tonight. The hunters are gathering forces. 

Chris Argent should’ve stayed home with his crazy sister, scary wife, and evil dad, but instead he’s sobbing in the woods. 

“Take him, beta,” Alpha orders. 

Stiles circles around him, silent as moonlight, and then pounces on him from behind. Argent yells as he goes down and Stiles shoves his face into the dirt. Argent struggles ineffectively for a few minutes, until his body realizes it’s not getting enough air. After Argent’s arms still, as his body settles, Stiles pushes all the way down – until his claws go through Argent’s head, digging into the brain that thought hunting was a fine thing to do. 

Stupid human. 

Stiles stands up and licks at the claw on his thumb. He can hear Alpha laughing, but Derek is grumbling under his breath. Stiles looks back at them, as Alpha lopes up and Derek slowly follows. “Well done,” Alpha tells him, reaching for his hand. 

Derek looks away and Stiles whimpers as Alpha methodically and carefully licks each of Stiles’ claws clean of Argent’s blood and brain matter. 

“Derek,” Peter orders when they’re all wearing human faces again, “tidy up the trash. Stiles, go home and get some sleep.” He gently pats Stiles on the cheek. “You have school tomorrow.” 

Stiles doesn’t glance back at Derek gathering up the body; he wants to howl the whole way home because this was the easiest kill yet. 

.

Next was Victoria Argent, on the way back from reporting her husband missing. She didn’t want to; Stiles had heard her arguing with Gerard and Kate, while he sat with Scott in silence, huddled together on Allison’s bed, and after it was done, he reported gleefully every horrible thing Gerard had shouted, everything Kate hissed. 

The town was watching them, since Allison’s death. She’d been well-liked around Beacon Hills and her tragically cut-short life was all the gossips could talk about. And since everyone knew how protective her father had been… 

Well, people would notice if they didn’t see Chris Argent for a while. And since no business could have pried him from town while whatever killed his daughter was still loose – 

So Victoria Argent, holding onto her sister-in-law for strength, walked into the sheriff’s station and her voice broke when she told the sheriff that her husband hadn’t come last night. 

While they were talking to Stiles’ dad, Gerard and most of his men started combing the woods again, though they hadn’t found anything last time, or the time before that. Derek’s apartment was in the middle of town; Peter still lived at the long-term care facility. And, Stiles – well, he lived with the sheriff. There was nothing in the woods for hunters to find. 

Except for the ashes in the Hale basement, covered in dirt. No human nose would be able to tell the difference, and no dog would go near the place, so Gerard and his goons were just SOL. 

Kate dropped Victoria off at the house and headed for the woods. Derek was at the apartment and as soon as Peter slipped into the Argents’ back door, that’s where Stiles went, too. 

. 

“Do you,” Derek starts hesitantly, not glancing up from the floor, “do you – like? What Uncl-Uncle Peter is doing?” 

“Dude, are you crazy?” Stiles laughs. “I fuckin’ love it.” 

Stiles looks up from his laptop to catch Derek’s flabbergasted stare. “I have his memories of that night, Derek,” Stiles says, dropping all levity. This is a side of Stiles Derek hasn’t met much; back when he was luring Derek in, Stiles was all smiles and babbling. But now that Derek is pack, Stiles doesn’t feel the need to hide what he’s really feeling, and right now – right now, he’s feeling _a lot_. “I heard them howling and screaming; I burned. I tried to save them and barely survived. Often, I wish I hadn’t.” 

Derek flinches, looking away, jaw clenched. “I know that Alpha is not your Uncle Peter,” Stiles continues. “Your Uncle Peter burned. He died with most of the pack. But he _is_ Alpha. And I am his beta.” 

When Derek keeps his eyes away, Stiles says, “Look at me, Derek.” Slowly, Derek turns his head back to meet Stiles’ gaze, and Stiles tells him, “Until Alpha’s vengeance is satisfied, I will do whatever necessary. And I will _enjoy the shit out of it_.” 

Derek still looks conflicted. Stiles doesn’t really understand it; from what he knows, what he’s guessed, and what he saw through Peter’s eyes, Derek (more than most) should be baying for Argent blood.

Stiles bounces off the bed, leaving the laptop, and goes to Derek. He stands so close their chests brush each other, and curls his arms around Derek’s neck, caressing the back of his head with claws. “Tell me, beta, what you want,” Stiles murmurs, looking Derek straight in the eye. 

Derek shudders, breath caught. Stiles waits. He’s Peter’s second, right hand, favorite. Derek is bloodkin of Alpha, but he’s not loyal, not all the way, not yet. 

He’s looking at Stiles’ mouth. Trembling in Stiles’ grip. Stiles can smell the want, practically taste it. “Derek,” he says again, gently pressing his claws into the fragile skin of Derek’s scalp. The same claws Alpha thoroughly cleaned of Argent filth. 

“I want Kate,” Derek admits, voice shaking. “I want her blood, her guts, her _death_. I want to tear her apart, and then tear those pieces apart, until nothing is left. I want her to scream and beg and choke on her own juices, and then I want to resurrect her and do it all again.” By the end, he’s breathing heavily, voice filling the room, and Stiles just keeps stroking the back of his head, down to his shoulders, and up again. 

“So you see the rightness of what Alpha is doing?” Stiles asks softly. 

Derek nods, leaning a little against Stiles. 

“C’mon,” Stiles says, backing up towards the bed without unwinding his arms. Instead of pulling away, Derek follows. Stiles carefully falls onto the bed, leading Derek down. “C’mon,” Stiles says again when Derek just lays there like a log. “Cuddle,” he tells Derek, shoving the laptop to the side, up under the pillows. “It’s fun,” he cajoles. 

When Derek doesn’t get the hint, Stiles rolls his eyes, sighing in disgust, and pounces on him. “Cuddle,” he commands, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his packbrother. 

It’s a long few minutes before Derek holds him in return, but by the time Peter walks in the door, Derek’s asleep in Stiles’ arms. It’s sleep he definitely needs, too, because he doesn’t wake up at Peter’s entrance. 

“Two left,” Peter says. “I’ll let you boys rest,” he continues, turning to go. “Tomorrow, after school, we’ll be having a pack meeting at your house.” 

“Oh, and Stiles,” he adds in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, at where Derek is mostly on Stiles, “now that my nephew is _in_ the pack, there will be no seducing. Is that clear?” 

Stiles nods. “Yes, Peter,” he says. 

Derek wants Stiles. Stiles doesn’t want Derek; he wants Peter. He mostly has Peter, but Peter won’t do certain things (not yet, he told Stiles, when Stiles asked why), but Stiles can wait. Of course he can. 

Maybe that’ll be the celebration, when the Argents are all dead. 

Derek is in the pack now, so Stiles doesn’t have to convince him by any means necessary. 

Derek’s nose and mouth are pressed into Stiles’ neck, one hand rests over Stiles’ heart, and he’s asleep. Despite everything – 

Stiles closes his eyes at the realization that Derek trusts him. 

_Shit_ , he thinks. Derek wants him, and Derek trusts him, and this is not the time. After the Argents are dead, when Peter expands the pack – 

Maybe then. 

(Maybe never.) 

. 

To get rid of Gerard Argent’s army, Stiles takes Scott into the woods. Derek is the bait; he catches one of the hunter’s eyes then lopes away, in the general direction that Stiles and Scott are hiking. When they hear the gunfire, they both panic, calling 911 and Dad’s cell simultaneously. 

Considering how close the town is to flipping the fuck out, a dozen men with only two gun permits between them, semi-automatic weapons, and two kids who were almost killed – well.

The fact that Gerard’s granddaughter was torn apart and his son and daughter-in-law are missing doesn’t give him a free pass for illegal weapons, or the armory he has no legal right to have in his son’s house. 

Or the fact that some of the weapons seized solve well over twenty cold cases all over the country. 

Half of Gerard’s army flees Beacon Hills. Three are arrested and extradited to stand trial for murder. The rest are terrified of Kate more than they fear the law, and that’s the only reason they stay. 

But now, the sheriff is watching them. Now, the clock is ticking. 

Scott doesn’t go back to the Argent house. Stiles spends an entire hour laughing, slumped against Peter (ignoring the way Derek watched them, pretending he couldn’t smell jealousy and desire). 

.

Kate is easy, half out of her mind with hate and rage and grief. She’s shooting at the old Hale house and Stiles stumbles into the meadow that used to be the backyard, and he ducks when Kate swings around, shouting, “It’s me! Scott’s friend! Please don’t kill me!” 

“Stiles,” she shouts, “What the fuck are you doing here!” She turns back to shoot at the house and Stiles stands up smoothly, smirking. 

He quickly pulls the act back around him to say, “I was out walking, heard the shots. What are you doing, Ms. Argent?” 

She doesn’t look at him as she drops the gun to replace it with another, cursing under breath about monsters. 

Monsters. Stiles clenches his fists because she has _no right_ to talk about monsters. 

“Kate,” he calls, closer than he was when she turned her back, “there’s someone who’s been waiting for you.” 

Peter’s roar fills the air and Kate spins around, but Stiles grabs the gun from her. She looks at him in shock and disbelief, and he grins, baring all his teeth, letting his true eyes shine out. 

“Your brother and sister-in-law are in that house,” he tells her. “And after my packbrother is done with you, if anything is left, that’s where you’ll go, too.” 

Kate lunges for him, but he dodges, grabbing all the guns on the ground as he does. 

“Derek,” Alpha says. “See to your present, nephew.” 

Kate screams in hatred, in fury – in fear, by the end. Alpha and Stiles watch. Alpha says, “This is justice, letting her dupe have her. Don’t you agree, beta?” 

“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles answers.

When Derek is done, panting for breath and spread out beside Stiles on the grass, Alpha chuckles, “And then there was one.”


	17. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning   
> Warnings: mentions of death/murder/violence  
> Pairings: Scott/Allison  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 280  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Placebo's 'Protect Me From What I Want'

"What's going on with you, Stiles?" Dad asks at dinner. 

"Nothing, Dad," Stiles says after swallowing his chicken. It tastes dry as dust, but Dad cooked it, and Dad wants a sit-down family dinner, and Kate Argent's screams are still echoing in Stiles' ears. "Just... Scott, you know? And now that Allison's family keeps vanishing..." he trails off, letting Dad read whatever he wants into that.

Dad just looks at him for a long moment; Stiles waits, heart pounding a mile a minute, and when Dad says, "I want you home by ten every night, and I'm taking the keys to the jeep," Stiles just bites back his sigh of relief.

Peter doesn't want Stiles anywhere near Gerard Argent when everything goes down; too dangerous, he says.

Stiles knows that's bullshit, but he'll let the only two Hales left finish the vengeance. It's right. It's justice.

And if it’ll keep Dad off his back, he's fine with it.

So he keeps his head down and does exactly what Dad says. He's home and tucked into bed by ten, only goes to school and back, and doesn't see anyone but Scott, and that's always Scott coming over because Stiles' house has no memories of Allison in it. For a week, Stiles has no contact with Peter or Derek at all, but the longer Stiles is on his best behavior, the more suspicious Dad looks. It hurts, a little, but Stiles knows it's what he deserves.

.

When Gerard Argent vanishes, it doesn't make the news. The Hale house finally falling in does.

.

Dad's working late when Peter and Derek both slip into Stiles' room, and Stiles knows before Peter says, "It's done."


	18. Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning   
> Warnings: mentions of death/murder/violence; implied child abuse  
> Pairings: Peter/Stiles, one-sided Derek/Stiles  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 295  
> Point of view: third   
> Prompt: Placebo's Centrefolds

Seeing himself in a world where Peter bit Scott instead - it horrifies Stiles. He seems so _muted_ , so weak. And _Peter_ in that world makes Stiles flinch away in horror, because he's so _wrong_. Derek with red eyes, Derek who killed Peter - the way not-Alpha asks if they got the Argents hurts because that means vengeance hasn't been satisfied. 

Well, that's obvious because Allison is sitting right there with the wolves, all strangers except for Isaac - and he's muted, here, too. Like no one's taken the time to draw him from his shell, like his father is still winning instead of in the ground. Derek and not-Alpha both look at him with hungry eyes, and looking at the way Scott's wolf shies from them both, he understands why.

So does the other him, who asks how things went down. "Are you sure?" he asks other-him, but of course other-him is. If it wasn't so self-explanatory, he'd ask, too.

But Deaton shows up with the strain of rowan necessary, and the way his eyebrow raises when Stiles manipulates the powder makes him chuckle, and he's back home in two wags of a wolf's tail. 

He ruffles Isaac’s hair, kisses Derek's cheek, and curls up in Peter's lap. They all stare at him, so he says, "I'll tell you later. Just let me have this." 

"Of course, beta," Peter murmurs. 

The want in Derek's eyes is sharp, but Stiles knows this Derek will never make a move, not for him or against Peter. Isaac throws his chemistry book at Derek and Derek turns to him with an annoyed growl. Stiles listens to Peter's heartbeat; eventually, he falls asleep.

He dreams about red-eyed Derek and Peter on fire, and himself dying beneath a hunter's fists.


	19. (After)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning   
> Warnings: mentions of death/murder/violence; implied child abuse  
> Pairings: onesided Derek/Stiles  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 1040  
> Point of view: third

"You smell like death, hunter," Peter tells the old man. Derek's growling behind him, barely keeping control; Gerard Argent glares up at him, the scent of his fear heady in Peter's nose. Peter asks conversationally, "How long do you have?"

"All of your kind are vermin," Argent says, "and you'll be put down like vermin." 

Peter laughs. "Making me angry won't get you a swifter death, Gerard. You're not as lucky as Christophe or Victoria, or even dear Allison. You'll be more like Katarina, I think." He grins, making sure to show the hunter all of his teeth. 

"What you've done in Beacon Hills is an act of war, Hale," Argent says, and the fear is thicker on the air. 

"No, Argent," Peter corrects him gently, reaching down to caress a claw along his jaw. "What your daughter did six years ago - _that_ was an act of war. This is justice." Peter stands back up and says, "Come closer, Derek. Watch and remember." He grins down at Argent again, and says, "If any other hunters come to our territory, it'll be your turn." 

Argent loses his voice before he finishes screaming.

.

After Argent is tossed in with his family and burnt to ashes, what's left of the house finally collapses. There are tears on Derek's face; Peter thinks they're tears of relief, of absolution. He doesn't ask.

"We should tell Stiles," Derek says abruptly, and while Peter knows he needs to keep an eye on that situation, he's happy to overlook it right now. 

"Yes, we should," he says. "Come, nephew." He turns and walks away from the hole in the ground that used to be his life. Derek follows. 

.

In the morning, Peter wakes up without anything planned. His vengeance has been exacted; the Argents are all but extinct - the alpha and his heirs dead, his army destroyed and leaderless. If he didn't have a fledgling pack, Peter might leave Beacon Hills to fully eradicate the bloodline, but he cannot abandon Stiles like that. (Or Derek, the one-time favorite uncle thinks.) Maybe when Stiles is older, has mastered his wolf, then they'll go hunting. Until then, though, they will stay here, in the boy's hometown. 

Maybe it'll be a vacation.

.

Peter has had to build his network back up since the fire. He had contacts in every pack in North America and most of the ones down south, and in Europe, all the way to Serbia. Stefan had friends in Australia and an ex-lover in Tokyo, contacts he brought to the pack when he mated with Peter.

But all of that died with the Hales, and Peter has had to scramble for information.

But now the Argents are dead. Only the youngest has been formally declared so, but everything in their world knows that if the Argents were alive, they'd be waging bloody war.

Something took out the Argents, something in Beacon Hills. And Peter Hale, smirking, is reaching out to his friends from another life... 

"They'll gut you for what you've done," Giselle Ryland, Alpha of the Ryland Pack in Atlanta, Georgia, tells him when he calls the cell number there is no reason he should have.

He laughs, low and dangerous, and they both pretend he doesn't hear the spike in her heartbeat. "They'll try," he says. "Spread the word. The Hale pack is rebuilding. We'll respect territory lines if ours are respected. We'll burn anything that tries to root us out."

"Peter," she says, "you were never meant to be an alpha. Do you honestly think this will end well?" 

"Giselle," he replies, "meant to be blew away on the wind with the ashes of my family. This is what _is_. I am alpha, and I'm settling in to stay." 

He hangs up and Giselle closes her eyes, lets her mate take the phone from her. "Spread the word," Giselle murmurs. "Peter Hale is Alpha of the Hale Pack, and the Argents are ripe for picking off." 

"Is that a good or bad thing?" Eliza asks, setting the cell down and pulling Giselle into her arms, stroking the back of Giselle's head. The kids are laughing at the TV two rooms over, and the betas are ranged around the house. It's pack night, when everyone comes over to catch up on their week. 

Pack night is what killed the Hales, all but the heirs and the head beta. And now one heir is dead and the head beta is alpha, and the Argents have vanished.

"It should be good," Giselle says. "But it might be very bad."

.

After Argent, everything settles. Stiles focuses on school and starts laughing again. He stops going out at all hours of the night. Dad starts looking at him like he used to, before that night in the woods. Everything’s easy again. 

Except... 

"What's wrong, beta?" Alpha asks him one night. Dad's out with his buddies; Derek's prowling the border because he thinks he caught another wolf's scent. 

"I... I think I need to hurt something," Stiles confesses, eyes on the ground.

"Good boy," Alpha praises him, stroking his cheek. "I taught you to kill, Stiles, and then took away your prey. It’s good that you came to me instead of seeking out prey on your own." He turns, saying, "Follow me, beta. We'll hunt deer tonight and start planning tomorrow." 

Stiles hurries after him, claws curling it into his palms, _needing_ to feel something rend beneath him.

He’s so glad Dad went out with his buddies tonight.

.

Peter hadn’t realized how bored he’d gotten until Stiles presents him with a new problem. He’d been so focused on outside the pack he hadn’t noticed anything within – or even within their territory. 

Beacon Hills is a small town, yes, but not small enough that violence is unknown. And there are people living there who no one would miss. 

So if deer don’t solve Stiles’ bloodlust issue, there are plenty people who might become prey.

But right now, it is time for a hunting lesson, so he tells Stiles, “Pick any one that catches your fancy,” and watches Stiles catch a deer, watches Stiles slaughter his prey, watches Stiles let himself get lost in the bloodlust.

Watches Stiles, and _smiles_


End file.
